


Cold Snap

by Asidian



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Invaders (Marvel), Marvel, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Cold Weather, M/M, Snow, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 12:26:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2621636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asidian/pseuds/Asidian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been pushing negative twenty for damn near a week and a half, and Bucky's sick to death of it. The German countryside's all-over white; it'd make a pretty picture, something out of a Christmas card with snow-dusted trees, only they're out here camping in tents and bedrolls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Snap

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for my prompt bingo card! 
> 
> The prompt was "goosebumps." More semi-drabbles from the same card will follow. :)

It's been pushing negative twenty for damn near a week and a half, and Bucky's sick to death of it. The German countryside's all-over white; it'd make a pretty picture, something out of a Christmas card with snow-dusted trees, only they're out here camping in tents and bedrolls.

He's half-forgotten what it's like to feel his toes, and when he's aware of them, they're stinging. He could do with about eight more pairs of socks, but he's only got the one, and that's not likely to change anytime soon.

To add insult to injury, the rest of his team take it like a summer stroll. Steve's serum helps insulate against temperature extremes, Namor's used to the frigid bottom of the sea, and Jim and Toro just turn up the heat when they need to.

Which means it's only Bucky wrapped in the extra layer the cold weather gear provides; it's only Bucky's fingers made clumsy with the gloves. It's only Bucky up half the night shaking in his bedroll, fully clothed, skin along his arms in goosebumps and hands tucked into his armpits to try and keep them warm.

So when he comes off watch to duck into the tent he's sharing with Toro and sees that the flap's been left unfastened – that the snow's blown in with the knife-sharp wind, soaking the bedroll nearest the entryway – Bucky mutters, "Jesus _Christ_." Cause there's Toro, sprawled out on top of his own bedroll, dry against the far wall. There he is, shirtless and dozing, like he's lying out on the grass on a bright June afternoon.

Bucky reaches down for a handful of the snow that's piled up inside the tent, and he throws it. "You can be a real jerk sometimes, y'know that?" It lands with a _splat_ against Toro's stomach, startles him awake.

The boy yelps – jerks upright – stares around with sleep-bleary eyes for a long moment as Bucky kicks mounds of snow back out into the frigid winter night, where it's meant to be.

"Aw, Buck," Toro says, when he realizes. "Aw, jeez. I'm sorry." He's up on his knees a second later, crawling over to help push it out. Where his hands touch the stuff, it melts on contact. "I just wanted some air in here. I was gonna close it, I swear."

"Yeah, well." Bucky gets the last of the snow out, fumbles at the tent fastenings with hands that are damn near numb beneath the gloves. "Next time you wanna let a blizzard in, move my bedroll first, wouldya?"

"Sorry," Toro says again, and he even sounds it. His hands dart in under Bucky's, nimble fingers cinching the ties of the tent against the weather. Bucky's so glad it's done that he doesn't even grouse about his teammate showing off. "Look, I'll dry everything out, okay?"

And Toro looks like he plans on making good, cause already the temperature in the tent's pushing something livable. All along the boy's bare arm, flames are starting to lick, bright and hot and welcome.

Bucky tugs off his gloves, one after the other, and tosses them to the floor – on the far side of the tent, the dry side, where the remnants of snow haven't left puddles. He stretches his fingers out like he's sitting around a cookfire, lets his eyes slip closed from the sudden warmth.

"Tell you what," he says. "No rush. Go on and take your time."


End file.
